17. A Chance Encounter #2
I glance at her, keeping my voice neutral. “It’s getting late.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking back to Damian.
Damian, who is watching her like he already knows he’s won something tonight.
Like he’s just getting started.
He doesn’t try to stop her from leaving. He doesn’t say another word.
Just watches.
And that infuriates me more than anything.
Nichole finally nods and grabs her clutch. “It was… nice seeing you again.”
Damian lifts his glass slightly, an easy smirk on his lips. “Likewise.”
As we walk past him, I feel his eyes on us—on her.
And as we step out into the cool night air, I know one thing for certain.
This isn’t over. Not even close.
The drive back to the estate is too quiet.
Nichole sits beside me, staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts. I grip the wheel a little too tightly, my knuckles whitening as I replay the encounter over and over in my head.
Damian was too comfortable.
Too bold.
He didn’t stumble onto us by accident. I refuse to believe that.
And Nichole—she’s still thinking about him.
I see it in the way her fingers absently toy with the strap of her purse, in the way her gaze remains distant. She hasn’t spoken since we left the bar, but she doesn’t need to.
I already know what’s on her mind.
I flex my grip against the wheel, forcing my voice to stay even. “So… what do you think of him?”
She turns to me, caught off guard. “Who?”
I don’t take my eyes off the road. “Damian.”
There’s a pause, just long enough to confirm what I already know. She hesitates before answering, as if weighing her words. “He seems… interesting.”
I scoff under my breath. Interesting.
I cut her a glance. “That’s all?”
She shifts slightly, tilting her head as if considering. “I don’t know him well enough to say more.” A beat. “But he doesn’t seem as dangerous as you make him out to be.”
I grip the wheel tighter.
That’s exactly what he wants. That’s how he gets in.
I exhale through my nose, forcing down the rising heat in my chest. “You don’t know him at all.”
She frowns at my tone but doesn’t respond immediately. A few moments pass before she speaks again, softer this time.
“There was a lot of tension back there.” She glances at me. “And I don’t mean just from you.”
I keep my gaze locked on the road. “That’s because he’s not just some guy at a bar, Nichole.”
She doesn’t back down. “Then tell me. Don’t just give me vague warnings.”
I let the silence stretch between us before I answer.
“LaCampanella and the Berettis have been at war for years.” My voice is low, controlled. “Blood has been spilled. A lot of it.” I finally meet her gaze. “You might not see it yet, but he’s not someone you should be getting close to.”
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shrink back. But she doesn’t argue either.
She just looks at me.
Then, she turns back toward the window, falling silent once again.
I exhale sharply, turning my attention back to the road.
I still don’t like her answer.
The way she hesitated. The way she didn’t immediately dismiss him.
And the worst part? The way he looked at her.
Like he already had a plan. Like he knew exactly how to pull her in.
By the time we reach the estate, my jaw is locked so tight it aches.
One thing is certain.
Damian LaCampanella has to die and I’ll be the one to make sure of it.
I storm into my room, the door slamming shut behind me. My pulse is a steady drumbeat of anger, my thoughts tangled in an unrelenting snarl. I rip off my suit jacket, tossing it onto the nearest chair before pouring myself a drink.
The amber liquid sloshes slightly as I lift the glass, but my grip is steady. Controlled. I take a slow sip, letting the burn crawl down my throat, but it does nothing to cool the fire inside me.
I knew Nichole’s presence would complicate things. But I underestimated how quickly it would happen.
She’s a distraction. A liability. A problem.
And now, Damian LaCampanella is circling.
I grit my teeth, my grip tightening around the glass.
I worked too damn hard for this.
For years, I’ve been proving myself to my father. Showing him that I am more than capable of leading this family, of expanding our empire, of taking everything he’s built and making it stronger.
And now, suddenly, she’s here.
Antonio may be playing the role of the welcoming father, but I see what’s happening.
He dotes on her. Watches her like she’s something precious. Something irreplaceable.
The thought turns my stomach.
She doesn’t belong here.
And now, on top of everything, Damian fucking LaCampanella has taken an interest in her.
That was no chance encounter tonight. I don’t believe in coincidences.
Nichole may be blind to the game being played around her, but I’m not.
Damian’s watching her. He’s waiting for something.
And I refuse to let him make his move first.
I set my drink down with a hard clink, pulling my phone from my pocket. With a few taps, I dial a number—one I only call when I want something done quietly.
It rings twice before a voice answers. “Yeah?”
“I need a tail on LaCampanella,” I say, my voice smooth but firm. “Every move he makes—I want to know about it.”
A pause. Then, “Understood.”
I don’t bother saying anything else. I hang up, staring at the phone for a moment before setting it down.
This isn’t just about Damian and Nichole.
It’s about control.
Damian thinks he can come sniffing around Beretti business without consequences?
He’s mistaken.
And if he pushes too far…
I smirk, rolling my shoulders as I pick up my drink again.
I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake he ever makes.